


Fake Smiles

by Anxious_Delinquent



Series: The Strength to Carry on [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Anxiety, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 08:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20793491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anxious_Delinquent/pseuds/Anxious_Delinquent
Summary: The beginning of a new adventure, a new chapter to his life as Virgil finds that not everyone is as easily fooled as he thought. No matter how dazzling his fake smile.





	Fake Smiles

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is just a set up, like just me playing with the idea of Virgil being based of myself. So theirs no other sides yet. That will come next chapter once I write it.
> 
> In case your curious, im kinda basing Virgil on me a little, or a lot i suppose.  
So this is actually based of my own first time going to a psychologist. Its also the same actual reason i was sent in the first place.

The clock is so loud. The tick reverberated in his head, harsh and sharp. The hard of the wood digging into his thighs. Precarious in his position, leg on the coffee table in front, the other tucked below the chair. His back at an angle where he's leaning heavily on his shoulders as he balances on the edge of his seat. Virgil peers at the table in front of him, trying to read the titles on the magazines littered from one end to the other. But he couldn't focus long enough to comprehend the letters. As the ticking of the clock stole his attention once more. Hammering into his head the seconds passing. Closer and closer till some bitch with a degree walks down the steps thinking she's better than everyone and emends he tell her all about his life. Look him up and down, and judge his every move just to say, in her dumb professional linguistics that she deems him broken. Unfixable.

He isn't broken.

He doesn't need to fucking be here. He isn't fucking crazy. Isn't weak.

There isn't anything that needs to be fixed.

Because. He. Isn't. Broken.

Bouncing his leg, his body vibrates with his worry, shoulders tense and his mind aching with the clocks continuous rampage in his head.  
Tick, after tick. So loud. To loud. Why is it so loud?!

"Virgil Black?"

Reality hits him like a slap to the face as his name is called. He must have missed the footsteps, that's a first, he's usually hyper-aware of his surroundings. But between the weight, slowly clawing at his chest and willing the clock to break. He must have zoned out.

In the doorway, is a short woman. Hair in a rough ponytail, the wear of the day getting to it with curls of shiny black pulled from their taught stature, framing her face. Peering curiously through her back frames, perched on the end of her pointy nose. She inspects Virgil’s strange display of posture.

"Yes, that's us!" Standing with a pep in her step, His mother begins to introduce herself.

Sending looks every few moments towards Virgil, as he slowly untangles himself from his awkward position.

"Im Samantha, his mother. It's nice to meet you. Were very excited to start."

"Okay, well. Will you be sitting in on the session today?"At the possibility, Sam's eyes light up, like a child about to get away with stealing a biscuit out of the jar. However a hard,

"No." Resounds from across the room.

Virgil now stands his shoulder bag in place by his hip, as he stares his mother down, a wolf ready to pounce. Rip her to shreds if she dares provoke him. The excitement in her eyes dissolves and her sharp smile hangs uncomfortably in the silence that follows. The women decides to continue anyway.

"Well follow me please Virgil," and he does.

Up the stairs, they walk, passed pictures of waterfalls and trees, almost as fake as the receptionist's smile. The wood of the banister worn down to a strange pale brown that he couldn't replicate if he tried.

"A water?"

A top the stairs she stands, watching intrigued by Virgil's shifting focus and strangely uncaring demeanour. Standing a few steps down, Virgil gives the best smile he can muster through the taut muscle in his jaw.

"Na... Thanks."

A nod in reply and she swivels on her feer, opens the first door on the right and enters the room leaving Virgil with the clack of her heels.

The room was rather bare, holding a desk filled with papers and pens, and three scratchy chairs facing one another, the kind you'd find at your grandma's house strange, old and dusty. Virgil would rather sit on the floor, however, he settles into one anyway, back facing the wall the whole room in his field of view. His attention however, was caught by the small side table in between his chair and another. A tissue box and a few odd-looking toys coloured the table, and he wondered what on earth they were there for, though he didn't have to even ask as she was already following his eyes.

"Some of my patients like to have something to do while they talk. Keep their hands moving."

"Oh."

Sat across from him, she watches with an intensity he's unused to. Barely anyone pays him a second of attention unless he wants them to. Now suddenly theirs some women honing in on his every movement, even as he tries to meld with the scratchy chair bellow him. It sends an uncomfortable bout of goosebumps up his arms and raises his shoulders slightly.

Shuffling his hands up his sleeves so only his pale, slim fingers stick out against the black of his hooded jacket. He sits silently.

"So my names Rosa, but you should already know that."

Her honey-coloured eyes unwavering, as he shifts again in his spot on the chair, never looking her in the eyes his gaze darts from blemish to blemish, the crack in the ceiling, the paint drop on the floor, the loose thread on her pencil skirt, the scuffs of his boots.

"Mm."

They sit in silence for a moment, as she takes in every detail of his uncomfortable fidgeting.

Virgil however, is trying not to scream. His body burns with the constant pierce of this strangers gaze, his knee bouncing and stance ready for any instant he may need to flee, the sounds of the cars zooming past the window makes his jaw strain further.

It's too loud.

Stop looking.

I shouldn't be here.

Stop looking.

It's too loud.

I'm not crazy.

I shouldn't be here.

Stop looking at me.  
Stop stop stop stop.

Finally, she does. A sway of her hands and she's writing on the clipboard, balanced against her knees. Virgil, takes an audible breath, trying to mask it as a sign of boredom. He can't let her know he's scared. That's a vulnerability he can't afford. Feelings are easily manipulated. So you only show what you need to do the manipulating. Figure out what her hawk eyes are looking for and give it to her. 

Then she'll leave you alone.

"So Virgil," interrupting his stream of thoughts, Rosa looks up from her papers, "how have you been feeling lately."

Wow, cliche much.

He shrugs his shoulders.

Not enough information to come to a conclusion on how to respond yet, still not sure what she's looking for, or more importantly what will make her stop looking.

"Well... How about I rephrase the question. Why are you here today."

Virgil, accidentally scoffs, raising his lips into a bemused smile he turns away. Hoping to disconnect further from her watchful eyes. Facing the window, above her desk, inspecting the golden sunlight tracing the world outside. Rosies eyes thin at the reaction, intrigued.

"Do you even want to get better?"

"Their's nothing to get better!" Every inch of venom his body owns, coat his words.

Forget figuring out what she wants him to say, Virgil is not fucking broken.  
He doesn't need to be fixed.

However, even with malice dripping of his ever syllable, enough to make just about anyone slightly apprehensive about continuing to speak, Rosa simply tilts her head with a slither of a smile and an accomplished gleam in her eyes.

She got a reaction.

"Uhuh..." They sit in silence for a while.

Virgil's shoulders raise even further, his chest aching with its familiar, tight constrictions.

"So, Virgil why are you here today then."

Virgil's jaw somehow becomes even tighter, and his hands mindlessly begin pulling at the loose threads on his seat, leg bouncing a vicious rhythm.

"... I accidentally cried in front of them. So they threatened to send me to a psychologist, if I didn't, 'get my shit together'." He doesn't move his gaze from the window.

Watching in his peripherals as she studies him further.

"And did you."

"Well, I'm fucking here arent I!"

Another lull in the conversation. Crossing her legs she sighs slightly, fully aware that he's not going to be an easy one. Though she raises her pen to her lips as she listens to the change in his breathing.

His chest is so tight. It hurts.

"Well, being here on a threat, it makes sense you're apprehensive about speaking with me. Taking away your choice in the matter is unfair... Isn't it."

"Not as if my opinion matters anyway." Grumbles Virgil, hanging his head slightly, focusing intently on his hand pulling at every little thing it can find.

The sound of the cars outside the window starts getting louder by the second, the aircon above him giving him a headache with the constant hum. His head filling with the painful, repeating. His face scrunches in his frustration.

It's too fucking loud.

So he slips an earphone on. No mother around to call him rude. He does his best to ignore everything, to disappear into the world of his music. Missing Rosas eyes, growing with intensity as she, once again, pinpoints his every movement, every change in posture and expression. Trying to get an understanding of what she's working with, to get an idea of what's going on in his head. So in the silence, they stew for a while. Virgil's breathing, although he hadn't realised, slowly regaining its proper density, the deeper he falls into his music. His body still moving with the force of his still bouncing knee. Rossie’s sits straight and entirely patient, watching.

"Even though they went about it the wrong way. Perhaps we should still try and make the best of these sessions. Its hard to get the mental health plan you did, your doctor must have also thought this a good idea."

"Doctors are professional liars with expensive degrees."

"Then what are psychologists?" She quirks her brow, and for the first time in the last half an hour, Virgil looks her in the eyes.

His deep, dark hole of an iris bares into hers, with double the intensity that she could ever muster.

"Professional manipulators, with expensive degrees and conformist values, that like to 'fix' what isn't broken..."

If this were an anime, flames would be consuming the screen. With the amount of force, he was displaying with his body. Every inch of his nerves seemed to be cemented into place, heavy but strong. Placing every inch of his strength in the fire line, to get across to this women. 

That he was not a broken toy.

He was fine.

If she wants to try and 'fix' him he'll make sure theirs nothing to fix.

"Virgil, why are you so against being broken."

Because if I'm broken, I can never truly be fixed.

"Because it means I'm weak. I’m not weak." His voice is almost hoarse, as his octave only seems to lower.

"Hm... Sure... Let say. You're not broken, at all. Theirs nothing about you that needs fixing or changing at all, your practically perfect... But that doesn't mean nothing will ever bother you, everyone has ups and downs... and everyone can benefit from someone to talk to and on occasion give another perspective." She tilts her head the opposite way, as she uncrosses her legs. "Sometimes we can be so caught up in a situation, that we can't see the whole picture."

Rosa knows she's managed to hit a nerve somewhere, she watched his defences go up, turn to fight in an instant. Theirs more to this kid then, possibly even he realises with how strong he comes across now. From an anxious, distrusting teenager. To a strong warrior, ready to fight the moment you give him a reason to.

"Thats what I'm here for. I'm just someone to listen to you, and maybe, help you. If you want me to."

Silence again.

Though Rosa keeps her stance, eyes trained on Virgil. As he seems to disappear into his head. Breaking eye contact as he begins to stare off to the side. His body seems to slump back into his chair, an exhaustion overtaking his body. His knee also starts to vibrate once again.

His senses going numb as he mulls over what she said.

What should he believe? Does this mean his parents won, he's broken, he's the one in the wrong, he's a failure, his father was right to do everything he's ever done to him?

Maybe he is just a fuck up.  
Hell, he knows he's a fuck up.

But talking to her means he's broken.

He's not broken.

He might be worthless, pathetic, unwanted, but he isn't.

Broken.

But no, she just said it doesn't have to mean that.  
She wants to listen to him. She wants to hear him speak his mind. Just as a normal person. Not a broken kid.

Because he isn't broken.

But no one wants to listen to him. No one ever has.

He's tried countless times, to speak up. Voice his discomfort or opinions. But he's always wrong, his parents always say. That he says something they don't like. He's always making them upset with him, even if he doesn't mean to.

He's better of being silent. Agree with whatever they say, because their always right.

He really doesn't feel like being told that again.

But.

What even is his opinion anymore. He's always tried to do what he thought he was meant to.

Be their little prodigy. Behave. Comply. Be strong. Don't cry.

Then suddenly his entire world crumbled around him, every reality he knew became a lie. His parents are now separated because he was doing drugs and shes mentally ill.

But without their consant pressure to do perfectly, to become what they wanted.

He lost his purpose.

Suddenly nothing was black and white anymore. No more right or wrong. Their actions became confusing, no more easily pleased with a little submission. They would do one thing, but say another.

His parents say they hate each other, always arguing with one another. But every day his father comes over for hours on end, to watch tv and drink till he passes out.

They swear he's better now, he doesn't do drugs anymore so he deserves to be forgiven for everything he did before. Yet he smokes and drinks now, as he yells and manipulates just as much as he ever has.

They enjoy degrading him, screaming at him that he's there to be useful, he should speak more, do more, help more show them that he can be a proper son. But then they ignore his very existence.

They whisper I love you, with a sweet voice. But then turn around and say to remember though that he's a waste of space.

He tried to be angry.  
Ignore the., build a wall and a mask to hide behind. They could never know that what they said got to him.

But that only proved to piss them off.

'Why are you acting like this. I haven't done anything to you! Its all in your best interest, stop ignoring us you ungrateful brat .'

'If you don't like him coming over, leave the house while he's here, go sit on the street and do your homework or something useful.'

'You’re so fucking rude.'

So he went back to being the perfect son, he cooked cleaned, got As on his tests, was quiet unless spoken to and showed nothing but a smile, no matter how forced it really was. 

But no matter what it was all pretending. 

He was an empty shell of a person.

Lost maybe.

But not broken.

Right... 

He's not broken...

But one day, he slipped up. He was just so tired one night, that he cried, and they yelled. So he fought back, for the first time in his life he defended himself. He chose fight, over flight. However, the moment he did, as with everything, they twisted it.

Called him broken.

Called him sick, for ever thinking they were wrong.

'He's a teenager, its a stupid faze, will make him stop it.'

'God what is wrong with you."

'We have enough to deal with already. Why do you just have to add to that.'

'He must be sick in the fucking head.'

'If you can't get your shit together we'll have to send you to a psychologist. Maybe they'll finally get through. Or maybe you're just too broken.'

"I don't get what people want from me..." Virgil finally whispered, the words hanging between the two as if you could reach out and grab them. "I don't have anything left to give." The heaviness of each letter seemed to be slowly settling on Virgil’s body, a painful weight to every limb in the uncomfortable quiet.

"What other people want doesn't matter here. We talk about you, for you..." checking the watch on her wrist, she clicks her pen shut. "But we are out of time today."

What.  
How had an entire hour passed?  
How long did those empty silences last, for an entire hour to go by? They must have been long.

"I hope you'll think more about what you can gain from these sessions... and I hope to see you again." Rosa stands, adjusting her glasses as she waits for Virgil to follow her out the room.

He does.

He stands and holds tight to his bag strap as his music still plays, drums and lyrics blasting in his ear as he trecks behind her back down the stairs and through the waiting room, stopping finally at the door to the front room. The receptionist sneaking glances at them as she types away at her keyboard.

"I will." Virgil's words so soft, Rosa barely catches them even in the quiet of the room.

The gentleness of his voice holding a truth, his real thoughts and feelings shining through the cracks in his mental barrier of lies.

His face remains straight ahead as Rosa's quizzical gaze searches the small twinkle of hope on his face.

"See you in a month." With that, he steps away.

Doing his best to ignore the feeling of her eyes on his back as he walks past the receptionist's desk. Holding his breath as he goes in an attempt to keep his head up, eyes clear until he's out the glass door.

Well, that was weird.  
The only thought thumping in his head. A nice change from the constant swirl of confusion.

Maybe he should give it a proper try next time...  
We'll see.

The familiar smell of cigarettes catches Virgil's nose, and he spots his mother leaning against the brick wall of an orange building. She gives a smile so wide it makes Virgil's cheeks hurt in sympathy.

"How'd it go sweety!" Her eyes flashing with excitement.

"Fine."

She blows one more cloud of smoke from her pursed, peach lips. The smoke as grey as the crystals hung from her neck. It smothers Virgil and a cough forces its way from his chest. The scratchy, stench of the second-hand cigarette smoke, hurts his throat. It tightens his chest into a knot as the smell raises his guard.

"Oh! I decided you're going back to school!"

She smashes the cigarette butt against the wall and practically skips her way up to Virgil.

Who stands with the strap of his bag, fisted against his stomach.

"I'm bored of homeschooling now."

"Its been three months mother."

Her long nails scrape along his chin as she smiles, somehow, even wider.

"I'm also going to start an online store and need your room to set up a sewing machine I just bought. So were moving you to the attic!"

Damnit. With the small amount of money, they gain from his mother's disability pension. They barely have enough for food every fortnight with all the alcohol and cigarettes.

"Where did you get the money for a sewing machine." The question slips out before he can catch himself and her face drops.

Nails pushing a little too hard into his cheeks. Lips slipping into a tight frown.

"That's none of your concern pet." She throws the last word with such a harsh tone, Virgi flinches and her eyes darken in a twisted kind of delight.

"Yes, mother."

Her smile returns, debatably with more teeth than her last, but her eyes stay as dark as the shadows casting across her ageing face. Her hand sliding away from his chin so fast she leaves a line of red in her wake.

"Now. Let go fill out a new school application."

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think. It has been a long time since I've written anything other then essays and ive never done a fanfiction so. Encouragement is encouraged. 
> 
> I know its kinda boring so far. But im just beginning to toy with the whole thing. 
> 
> If i can find some spare time, I'll write the next chapter, where he'll actually meet the other sides. Honest.


End file.
